The Compelling Truth.
To start with this isn't an adult subject as such but more over aimed at adult readers
The scent of her perfume is intoxicating, its sweet aroma engulfs my senses, infests my imagination, ambushing and dragging me into the guilty depths of my mind. I can even now, as I write these words visualise her so clearly, so definitively, I can feel her presence, the soft exciting perhaps stimulating fabrics that she wears. She is provocative, all consuming, I battle against her, fight her will, I don't know why; I know she will win, yet I feel almost compelled to offer the best resistance I can against her.
She is tall, almost six feet in height; her slanderous body is vivacious, long legs toned, and that rise majestically, always clad in shinny golden nylon pantyhose, occasionally stockings. Legs that advance up, disappearing beneath a black pencil styled skirt that adheres to her thighs with such lavish delight. Her sumptuous thighs rounded and perfectly formed; give way to a narrow waist and totally flat stomach.
Her chest is delectably formed, mounds of feminine flesh that hides beneath the material of a bra which yes suffocates their insane beauty, but also pushes and pronounces their angelic appearance, making them even more captivating for the eyes to see. She wears a white silken and lace blouse, silk upon the entire chest and shoulder area that is semi tight across her yearning and most feminine bosoms. Soft sensuous material which dances, cavorts, touches and teases the naked flesh of her ribs and stomach. Delicate lace arms, transparent with almost a fragile embossed swirling pattern which descends their entire length to the wrist, where it is embraced in once more the white of the silk.
I watch with an almost lurid delight, as her chest heaves beneath the breath that she takes. I feel compulsion, desire, swirling within me; it's like an internal shower system that cleanses me from the inside. The tiredness that I once felt has gone; the rebellion that was fighting within me has just about been quelled. My eyes look deep into the soul, studying, not just looking, and making a connection on every conceivable level.
Drawing my eyes up I see her long erogenous neck, the soft subtle flesh that is sensitive to touch and was once partial to long lingering embraces that sent a cascade of shivers flowing through her entire body. Her face is a beacon of delight, eyes that are mesmeric as they are hypnotic and beguiling. She wears cosmetic's that are applied with thought, sparsely, not aggressively like the painting of a tribal war colours. Foundation, a touch of concealer, liquid and powder merged together in harmonious delight. A touch of blusher, which embellishes her cheekbones, strengthening the soft subtle beauty that she has, blue oceanic eyes which stare at me, captivating my mind, ensnaring my heart and liberating my thoughts. Eye shadow that compliments and works to enhance the power of her eyes, impacting upon their visual stimulation whilst soft velvet pastel rose coloured lip gloss, which takes her seduction value top a new incredible value.
I look at her and feel the last strands of resistance fall, my body relaxes, mind clears, muscles unwind as the hypnotising effect she has upon me begins to enchant and seduce me. I spend so much time fighting against her, not because I dislike her, but because how she makes me feel and how much I truly adore her. Yes to some degree she frightens me, she always has from the first time I saw her. She is my guilty secret, my shame, but she's also the proudest thing I am ever likely to have.
Too many she is an enigma, a puzzled which cannot be understood or defined, why do I know that, because not even I can honestly profess to fully understand her. She is a person who will be constantly judged, sometimes even ridiculed, laughed at and occasionally abused, yet she remains strong and steadfast. She knows the general population won't understand her, that life will be hard no matter how "beautiful" her looks are, she exists on the fringes of this modern society that we live in today, but to her that is accost which she has to accept.
How can I know all about this woman, yet admit at the same time that she remains in part a little mystery. Why am I so tentative, fearful of her and why does she fill me in trepidation and guilt, let alone always start off with this ritualistic fight. The reason in reality is simple, but you my dear reader have already formed an impression of her that I can guarantee is totally wrong. She is a lady in her own right, a person struggling for equality and yes to some degree to be defined, someone that doesn't want to stand out from the dense crowds that meander through the city streets which she does walk every day. She is a lady in every respect; her figure astounds and just occasionally is the source of envy. The lady I am looking at and have just described is a reflection of me, I am standing in front of a mirror filled with pride.
Femininity isn't truly something that comes naturally to me, for so many years of my life, I thought of it as a curse. I knew to exist I would have to go through hardships, pain that was beyond most people comprehensions, I would have to surrender my life, to lose my family and walk away from my relationship. To leave behind not just my home and my job, but also the city which I had grown up in and lived for almost thirty years.
I am a transsexual, it's not a tittle that I wear with any pride, and I never wanted that label or the stigma which engulfs it. In the past I have tried suicide in order to escape it, yet I know now that I can't. It's part of what makes me who I am. I was born this way, I didn't decide, I have lived, hidden from it, denied it, yet here I am describing it to strangers, probably the very people who may condemn me for it. Perhaps maybe even those who four years thought it would be "fun" to rundown in their car, just for the laugh because no-one cares about a "tranny".
Now that you know the truth compare the image that you had built up just a few short moments ago to that which you now have, tell me has it changed, has your perceptions altered, has your interest waned. Were you guilty of judging someone simply on how they look or were described, would you have read this if I'd told you of that nugget of information at the very first paragraph. In my life I've befriended many emotions, hatred, desperation, euphoria and fear. I've walked amongst the damned, experienced the abuse, suffered the depression and humiliation, tried to end my own life and tried to desperately live a life that others wanted me to. I don't know what made me the way or the person that I am, not everything in life can be explained. But I am who I am and as tough as others make this life, I know I have been through harder more serious times brought on by myself.
I am a person that is tired of existing, I want to live and breathe, to feel confident and be able to be accepted by only myself at the minimum. I know by doing this I have become one of the unlovable people, many won't be able to get past the transsexual title, but I just wanted to see, to make you think for a moment about the woman you first saw in your mind and compare that to the same woman but with only one word added in that of transsexual and see if it made a difference.